


Luck of the Draw

by goopeculiar



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angry Sex, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, See notes for additional warnings!!!, Super sad shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 21:47:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19981027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goopeculiar/pseuds/goopeculiar
Summary: It all comes down to fate. The luck of the Draw.





	Luck of the Draw

**Author's Note:**

> there's some really dark stuff in this story, and it has been brought to my attention that it could be triggering to some people, so here's an additional warning (SPOILER ALERT!!!): this story contains implied cannibalism. if you feel like that is something you're uncomfortable with reading, I suggest you don't proceed. :)

From his perch atop a dusty knoll, Joonmyun stares out across the bleak landscape that stretches before him, nothing worth noting as far as the eye can see. No buildings, no signs of life, just miles and miles of barren plains sporadically dotted with black trees that reach their twisting, bare branches towards the sky. He has heard tales of the time where the land was green with foliage and rich with wildlife, crystal blue water slithering through the fields like fat snakes glistening under the sun, but all he has ever seen for himself is this vast emptiness. The Nothing.

Suddenly, to his left, there is motion. A bird! Flying through the air with fast-flapping wings, possibly fleeing from another starving predator. Joonmyun's keen eye picks up on the movement right away, and he readies his crossbow, takes into consideration the flight path of the bird, and fires the bolt. He feels a sense of elation well up in him when he sees the target plummet to the ground after a successful hit. The dry grass crunches under his heavy boots as he rushes to pick up his prey. It's small and scrawny, but beggars can't be choosers in this world, and so he brushes off the worst of the insects that have already swarmed in for an easy feast and stuffs the bird into his bag along with the one he shot earlier. It'll have to do.

Behind the clear visor of his mask, Minseok looks as exhausted as Joonmyun feels, eyes ringed with purplish dark, skin sallow, cheeks sunken. Joonmyun joins up with him just as he is pulling in his net from the murky river. He shakes his head solemnly at Joonmyun's questioning look. “Nothing,” he says. “The water is as good as dead. I managed to drag a couple of crawfish up from the bottom but they're not even fully grown yet.” He gestures at the bucket by their feet.

Joonmyun's heart drops at the information, but he doesn't let it show on his face. He just pats Minseok's shoulder. “You've worked hard. Let's find Baekhyun and head back. We can't stay out here much longer, the radiation is getting dangerous.” Minseok nods, expression glum. He knows as well as Joonmyun what their failure could mean.

  
  


Back at the caves, they're greeted at the vault door by Yixing. “Welcome back,” he says, handing them rad meds in small, individual paper cups. “You're cutting it close, leader. I've told you you can't stay in the Nothing for too long. It's not healthy.”

Joonmyun downs the medication like a shot, pulling a face at the way the concoction slides down his throat and the bitter taste it leaves on his tongue. “The other Runners?” he asks, ridding himself of his protective, lead-lined suit while Minseok and Baekhyun do the same next to him.

Yixing shakes his head. “Had about as much luck as you guys,” Yixing says. “Chanyeol caught a rabbit in the snare he set up the other day...” Baekhyun leaves as soon as he hears that Chanyeol has made it home safe. “...but Sehun came back empty-handed. Jongin found some new seeds, though. I'm going to put them in the soil tomorrow.” They've been trying to grow plants down here with little success so far. Yixing says the lack of sunlight makes it difficult. Joonmyun doesn't know the first thing about gardening, but he trusts that Yixing does.

Joonmyun grimaces. He had hoped to return to better news than that. He puts his hands on his hips, chewing on the inside of his cheek, and starts pacing back and forth as he thinks. It's not enough. What they have is not enough. There are nearly fifty people down here now with the addition of the last few births, and he could try to ration or make a choice about who gets to eat and who doesn't, based on logic or bias or both. Still, no matter how unrealistically far he attempts to stretch their meager means, two small birds, a rabbit and a handful of immature crawfish is never going to be sufficient to feed them all. It's just not enough.

He heaves a heavy sigh, knowing full well what to do to solve this. A part of him knew before they had even made it back to the caves. He can think about this as long and hard as he wants, ponder for hours upon hours, days upon days. He already knows there's only one solution to keep everyone from starving, though. He hates doing it, but this world hasn't left him with much of a choice. There's no other way. There's nothing else he can do.

Exhaling heavily once again and with his stomach churning from more than just hunger pangs, Joonmyun turns to look at Minseok, who appears to know what Joonmyun is going to ask of him before Joonmyun has even spoken. “Ready the Draw.”

  
  


The entire community is gathered at the center of town, all with similar downcast demeanors. In the middle of the circle of people stands Joonmyun. As their chosen leader, it is Joonmyun's duty to perform the Draw – he has to reach into the name jars and pick two people. Every person living in this underground cave town has their name in those jars, with a few agreed upon exceptions. No children under the age of fifteen. No mothers with children so young they still rely on her to survive. No people, who are crucial to their society.

As such, Yixing, with his rare gift of medical knowledge, is excluded from the Draw. He stands by Joonmyun's side, a part of the ceremony like always, though no one is paying him any mind. Everyone's attention is fastened on Joonmyun instead. He hates how they all stare at him with such plea in their gaze, as if he could possibly affect the outcome of this. As if he has any say in whose names he'll draw. He doesn't. It all comes down to fate. The luck of the Draw.

The hands on the large clock on the church's bell tower move into position, and once the bell has rung a number of times, Joonmyun clears his throat. It is time to begin. “I'm sure we all know why we're here,” he speaks, loud enough for everyone present to hear him. “I don't wish to drag this on further than need be, so I'll perform the Draw right away.” Reaching into the left jar, Joonmyun grabs the first slip of paper he touches, which he hands over to Yixing. 

The tension is palpable in the air as everyone waits with bated breath for Yixing to read aloud the name of the unfortunate soul, who has been chosen for the Draw. Infinitely slowly, he unfolds the paper. His eyes scan the name scribbled, black on white, and he lets out a small sigh. “Hyojin,” he says and flips the paper around so everyone can see for themselves that he speaks the truth. “You have been Drawn.” Forty-some pairs of eyes shift towards one woman as though moved by a common force. She's at the edge of the circle, standing straight and proud, and only nods stiffly in acceptance, but even from ten feet away, Joonmyun can see the way she has started to tremble. 

“Hyojin,” Joonmyun repeats. He hates this. He really, really hates this. “Do you know what this means?” She doesn't say anything. She's been alive longer than Joonmyun has, she knows how this whole thing works. Grabbing her two children – old enough not to omit their mother from the Draw, too young to truly understand what is going on – by the hand, she leaves the town center. Her husband looks understandably shaken up, but he stays behind and only watches her go. They still have to choose a candidate from the men, after all.

The second pick happens in a similar fashion. Joonmyun reaches into the jar – the right one, this time – pulls out a piece of paper, hands it to Yixing, who unfolds it and reads it. Joonmyun can tell immediately that something is wrong by the way Yixing goes rigid once he registers the name. With his mouth hanging open, he looks at the paper, then at Joonmyun's face, then back at the paper again, and his reaction gives Joonmyun plenty of time to prepare for the worst, yet he still isn't ready when Yixing turns the note over and Joonmyun sees his own name written on it. “Joonmyun,” Yixing says, very quietly. “You have been Drawn.”

For a heartbeat, the world goes dark. Joonmyun has to reach out with shaking hands and grab onto the table for support because he feels like his legs are close to giving out beneath him. He feels like he's going to throw up. Through the rush in his ears, he is vaguely aware of the murmur that has erupted in the crowd and the way they all look at him with anticipation as though awaiting his official response. If he wanted to, he could probably change this result, choose to overrule this Draw and pick another name to replace his own. He is the leader. He could save himself. But it wouldn't be fair. Almost every other able-bodied person living here has the chance of being Drawn. Why should Joonmyun be excluded?

“Very well,” he speaks. To him, the words seem to come from somewhere far away, spoken by someone else, but it is definitely Joonmyun's voice, and his mouth is definitely moving. “The Draw has been completed. We will reconvene in one turn of the clock to proceed with the rest of the ceremony.” He avoids making eye contact with anyone as he turns away from the town center and starts the walk back to his home.

  
  


Joonmyun has barely closed the door to his small house behind himself before it flies open again as Jongdae storms through it. He is very clearly livid. “You asshole!” He shoves Joonmyun hard, over and over, and Joonmyun allows himself to stumble back a step with each push until he has made it all the way across the room. “You fucking asshole! How could you do this to me?” The answer on Joonmyun's tongue is interrupted by lips against lips, desperate and almost violent with the way their mouths clash. Jongdae only breaks the contact to yank Joonmyun's shirt off. “I fucking hate you,” Jongdae snarls. The quiver in his voice is like a thorn in Joonmyun's heart.

Before Jongdae can connect their lips in another bruising kiss, Joonmyun stops him by cradling his face in his hands, fingertips sliding into Jongdae's hair. “I know,” he says earnestly as he looks Jongdae right in the eye to make sure he gets his point across, to make sure Jongdae knows he means it. Jongdae's breathing is ragged, his long lashes damp with what Joonmyun can only assume is tears. “I'm sorry.” An ugly grimace flashes over Jongdae's face, and he flattens his palms against Joonmyun's bare chest and gives him one last shove to make him fall back on the bed behind him.

Jongdae strips out of his own clothes with hurried moves, pulling his shirt over his head, pushing down his pants and underwear, and so, when he straddles Joonmyun's lap, he is as naked as the day he came into this world. He goes straight for the waistband of Joonmyun's pants, a frantic fumble unfasten them. He's shaking so hard he can't even get his fingers to cooperate. “Stupid fucking piece of fucking shit, fuck.” Joonmyun grabs Jongdae's shivering hands to make him stop, asking him to please slow down, but Jongdae wrenches out of his hold. “We don't have fucking  _time_ to slow down,” he snaps, and, right away, Joonmyun sits upright so he can pull Jongdae into his arms and hold him as he trembles, with anger, with frustration, with fear. 

“I know,” Joonmyun whispers. He kisses Jongdae's cheeks and doesn't mention that they feel suspiciously wet under his lips. He knows Jongdae would deny any implication that he has been crying. “I know, alright? I just don't want to rush this. I don't want this to be over so fast.” He rubs Jongdae's back in an attempt at soothing him. His shoulder blades seem to nearly cut into the palms of Joonmyun's hands, his vertebrae jut out like jagged rocks running down the length of his spine. Was Jongdae always this skinny?

They kiss again, slower and more toned down this time, but no less desperate. Joonmyun can sense the raw emotion in the way Jongdae pulls roughly at his hair, in the way he glowers at Joonmyun and calls him a fucker and bites Joonmyun's lips with what feels like vicious intent. Yet Jongdae still allows their positions to be reversed so  _he's_ the one sprawled out on his back, he still readily spreads his legs to let Joonmyun, now undressed, sit between them. Jongdae swallows thickly at the feel of the first tentative touch and furrows his brow when Joonmyun pushes a finger inside him, slick with nothing but saliva. It's all they have.

Joonmyun leaves kisses all over Jongdae's small body, every inch of skin he can feasibly reach while he still has his fingers buried deep inside Jongdae. The parts Joonmyun can't get to are swallowed up by hungry eyes and committed to memory instead. All the while, he keeps telling Jongdae how beautiful he is, reverent praises murmured under his breath until Jongdae lets out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob and throws an arm over his eyes, possibly to hide the tears that have welled up again. “Fucking asshole,” he says. “Stop being so cheesy and get on with it already. We don't have all day.” He's right, of course. Joonmyun isn't sure how much time they have left, but he knows it's nowhere near as much as he would have liked. He pushes in another finger, eyes trained on the way Jongdae's mouth falls open in a moan. Joonmyun wishes he could keep that sound with him forever.

When Joonmyun finally slides into Jongdae's tight heat, he nearly cries as well. He spends several moments unmoving with his face pressed into Jongdae's neck, breathing heavily, as he waits for Jongdae to adjust to the stretch and simultaneously struggles to choke back the threatening tears.  He doesn't move until Jongdae tells him to, and even then he pulls out and pushes back in with unusually slow motions, different from how hard and rough and rushed their sex tends to be most of the time. This feels less like fucking and more like making love.

Jongdae is still covering half of his face. While continuing the unhurried rolls of his hips, Joonmyun reaches up, wraps his fingers around Jongdae's boney wrist and pins it to the sorry excuse for a mattress they're on. “I want to see you,” he mutters. Jongdae sneers and meets Joonmyun's gaze for all of five seconds before turning his face away to stare off to the side, the set of his jaw petulant. He gasps when Joonmyun pushes into him with a sudden, harsh thrust. “ _Look_ at me.” It's supposed to be an order, but it comes out sounding more like a desperate plea.

Perhaps that's also the reason why Jongdae actually does what's asked of him for once, looking Joonmyun in the eye with an uncommonly soft expression. Joonmyun kisses high on his cheekbone, eliciting a wry chuckle from Jongdae. “You sappy fuck,” he says in between puffed out breaths. He brings his free hand up to caress Joonmyun's face. Joonmyun smiles meekly and lets go of Jongdae's wrist to thread their fingers together instead.

It doesn't last long. If Joonmyun could freely choose, he would have dragged this moment on forever, but he doesn't  _have_ a choice, and they don't  _have_ forever, so it's all over far too soon. He can already feel the pressure building, the warmth in his lower abdomen intensifying as his cock drags along Jongdae's insides. “I'm close,” Joonmyun lets Jongdae know.

Jongdae hums in acknowledgment. “Come, then.” Joonmyun speeds up his thrusts and keeps going until he can't hold back anymore. He motions to pull out, but Jongdae is faster than him with the way he raises his skinny legs and wraps them around Joonmyun's waist to keep him trapped exactly where he is, and Joonmyun is so surprised by the action that he doesn't even have time to  _consider_ asking Jongdae if he's sure about this. Emitting a stuttered moan, he bottoms out one last time and comes deep within Jongdae's clenching ass. Jongdae reaches between them to get a hand around his own dick. He jerks off with quick moves and lets out a soft sigh when he comes as well, release dripping through the gaps of his fingers.

Everything is too hot and too sweaty and too gross, and Joonmyun honestly wouldn't have it any other way. He wants to stay like this for the rest of his time, with Jongdae under him, around him, surrounding him, but Jongdae doesn't let it last long before he pushes at Joonmyun's shoulder to get him to move. Jongdae pulls a face when he sits up, muttering something about feeling disgusting, and he waddles off to the adjacent room to wash up in their small basin filled with grungy rain water.

He comes back quickly, crawls into bed and fits himself against Joonmyun's side. It is not often that Jongdae wants to cuddle after sex, so whenever he does, Joonmyun never refuses him. He simply wraps an arm around him and pulls him closer, and with their naked bodies twined together in post-coital bliss, he presses a kiss to the top of Jongdae's head and whispers: “I love you.”

“Does it have to be you?” Jongdae blurts out. “You're the leader. You can decide to Draw again. You can choose someone else.”

Even though Jongdae can't see it, Joonmyun smiles sadly. “I could.” He plays with Jongdae's hair, probably messing it up further than it already is.  “But what kind of leader would I be if I exempt myself from this for no reason other than cowardice?”

“A living one,” Joonmyun thinks he hears Jongdae mumble.

  
  


It seems like Joonmyun and Jongdae are the last to arrive at the center of town at the appointed time. The bell in the tower rings out its final ominous toll, echoing between the cave walls for a few seconds afterwards. Then everything descends into heavy silence. Hyojin is crouched down in the middle of the circle, kissing her children's small, round faces and whispering something to them that Joonmyun can't actually hear from this distance. He imagines it's something along the lines of what he told Jongdae before they left the house, though.

Yixing stands next to Hyojin with an expression of sympathy. He puts a hand on her shoulder when he sees Joonmyun approaching. “It's time.” Hyojin looks up at him, looks at Joonmyun. She appears as though she has been crying. Her mouth stretches out into a thin line, and she nods, determined, then hugs her children one last time and kisses her husband, uncaring of everyone's eyes on her. Joonmyun turns to Jongdae to give him a kiss as well, only to find that Jongdae has already walked over to stand next to Baekhyun, who wraps an arm around Jongdae's shoulders and whispers something in his ear. Jongdae remains silent. He doesn't look at anyone.

The walk from the town center to the back of the caves is probably the longest walk Joonmyun has ever had to go through. It's certainly not made easier by the weight of eyes resting hot and heavy on his back until he disappears between the houses. Hyojin is walking next to him. She doesn't make a sound the entire way, but when Joonmyun throws a glance at her, he sees tears streaming silently down her face. He can relate. He quite feels like he's on the verge of a breakdown, himself.

They make it to the last house in the part of town furthest away from the entrance to the cave. It's colder, back here, and the air feels staler, the overall atmosphere darker. In front of the house stands a figure clad in black. His frame is smaller than most, and his face is deceptively cute, but he has an air of authority about him that makes everyone in their community respect him unconditionally. “Are you ready?” asks Kyungsoo, the butcher, staring at them with dark eyes.

Joonmyun lets out a mirthless laugh. “I don't think anyone is ever really ready for death,” he says. Kyungsoo nods, expression stony. He gestures for Joonmyun and Hyojin to step inside his abode, and Joonmyun takes a deep, steadying breath before entering the slaughterhouse.

At least the community will eat well tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> cross-posted from AFF because I like this one.
> 
> comments are appreciated, questions will be answered. c:


End file.
